


Pancakes vs. Waffles

by positivelyglowing



Series: Spideychelle One-Shots, Prompts, and Requests [6]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Cheesy, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Holding Hands, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 01:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positivelyglowing/pseuds/positivelyglowing
Summary: "Not that I don’t trust you or anything…” Peter speaks slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “But…” His expression is pulled together in a look of confusion that is not at all cute, and the hesitance in his tone does absolutely nothing to support the words coming out of his mouth.“Do we really have to practice holding hands?”





	Pancakes vs. Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Here is day 4 for spideychelle week! This one is super fluffy and super cheesy and I am so excited to share it with you guys! I've never written this type of trope before, even though I love them to pieces. This fic is what i imagine would be a scene in a larger work. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Prompt: Fake Dating AU

“Not that I don’t trust you or anything…” Peter speaks slowly, scratching the back of his neck. “But…” His expression is pulled together in a look of confusion that is  _not at all_  cute, and the hesitance in his tone does absolutely nothing to support the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Do we really have to practice holding hands?” 

MJ huffs, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes into another dimension, though she wonders if he can sense the faint insecurity behind her impatience. “Uh, yeah.” They’d been over this once or twice before. “I told you; no one’s gonna actually believe we’re a thing if you look like you’re gonna spontaneously combust every time we touch.”

He pauses momentarily to do the math in his head, taking her words into careful consideration, before giving a conceding nod. “Okay, yeah. Yeah. You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She holds her hand out to him. “Now, c’mon. Take my hand, and try not to throw up, okay?” She teases, the corner of her lip twitching into an unassuming smirk.

Peter huffs in amusement, shaking his head. “Okay.”

It’s only a little awkward, he has to admit; they’re sitting side-by-side on the couch, bodies angled towards one another; if he’d move just a fraction of an inch, his knee would be touching hers, he notes. He’s close enough to go a little dizzy at the vague floral notes of her shampoo, and it takes all of his strength not to take a deep breath in.

(What? He wasn’t smelling her on purpose. She was right there, for crying out loud.)

He takes the leap, folding his hand over hers, silently praying that she doesn’t comment on how sweaty he is. 

“Waffle, don’t pancake,” she says, voice cutting through the air. 

“Huh?”

“Like this.” She wordlessly interlocks her fingers with his. “It’s more believable, according to Google. It’s uh…” Her voice trails off as she stares down at their intertwined hands. “It’s supposed to show a deeper connection, or whatever.” 

“Oh,” Peter breathes. “Cool.”

“Yeah.”

The tips of Peter’s ears are for sure turning an embarrassing shade of red, the room around him seeming to have become a sweltering desert in just a matter of seconds. 

He honestly can’t believe this is happening. 

In hindsight, it may have been a bad idea— for his own sake — to ask MJ to be his fake girlfriend. Maybe. He would never have dreamed that she’d say yes, and he certainly would never have thought she’d suggest they practice being a couple behind closed doors, even if it was just acting.

MJ was all method, it seemed.

It happens in all the romantic comedies, a classic trope, she’d explained; the couple gets thrown off their rhythm when someone asks them to do something that any normal couple would do. Kiss. Hug. Hold hands. It’s wooden. It’s unnatural. 

It’s a disaster-and-a-half.

And then one of them always overthinks it, the other shuts them out, yadda yadda yadda—

“You know, you can probably do some other stuff, too.” MJ breaks the silence again, though her tone is softer. 

Peter’s eyes widen as he looks up at her, head tilting a fraction.

“Gross couple-y stuff,” She elaborates, an amused huff escaping her at his reaction. “Like… you can move your thumb, or something.” 

Peter takes her advice, his thumb starting to trace hesitant lines on the back of her hand. “Like this?”

She’s silent for a moment, heart hammering in her chest. She clears her throat, remembering herself when Peter glances up at her. “Uhm— Yeah. Yeah. You’re doing great, bud. Pal.”

His gives her hand an experimental squeeze, his thumb slowing it’s movements on her soft skin for the briefest of moments. There’s a beat of silence between them, the surrounding air crackling. 

“Is there— ” Peter reddens at the way his voice comes out nearly an octave higher than normal. For goodness sake, they’re literally just holding hands.  _Get a grip, dude_. He coughs in an attempt to bring it back down. “Is there anything else I can do to, uh— sell it more?”

And MJ tries, she really does, to think of what all the WikiHow articles said, but she finds that she’s unable to focus on anything other than just how nice this feels, how crazy her dumb teenage hormones are going now that the boy she likes, and has liked for a while now, is holding her hand. “Uh, I don’t know,” she shrugs, bottom lip poking out momentarily in thought, though she doesn’t take her eyes off of his hand laced with hers; she can’t. “Got any ideas?”

His expression twists in concentration, lips pursed. 

Well, he can think of  _one_  thing.

“Uh, well, I guess if we were sitting next to each other— like this—” He gestures between them. “At decathlon or something… then, maybe uhm, I could—” He stammers, shifting in his place. His thumb falters with his voice, and he mentally kicks himself for being so incredibly not smooth. 

He makes the mistake of looking up at MJ. It does a strange thing to his heart, making direct eye contact while holding another person’s hand, especially while simultaneously caressing said hand. It’s such a small gesture, yet so surprisingly and incredibly intimate.

Maybe it was a bad idea, continuing the way they were. 

Maybe they should stop.

Maybe he shouldn’t say anything. That he has no idea what else, what other display of affection, could possibly sell this more.

Maybe he should just—

“Kiss your hand?” The words are spilling out before Peter can do anything to keep them in, though he hastily tries to recover, to retain some sense of dignity. “Just a quick one. Or something— I don’t know. Maybe not that. I was just thinking—” Oh, God, and now she’s just staring at him, eyes blown wide in shock. He keeps going, hoping that he isn’t digging his grave any deeper. “Ben, uh, used to do that when he and May would hold hands… I’ve seen Tony and Pepper do it, too… Gah, it’s dumb—”

“–No,” Michelle cuts him off, and it’s his turn to be utterly stupefied. “No, uh, you’re right. Couples do that kinda stuff all the time.”

Peter’s fully expecting the cartoon anvil to drop on his head at any moment.

“So…” 

Her pulse spikes under his fingertips.

“Go for it.”

He swallows, butterflies erupting in his stomach as he dares to look back down at their joined hands. He flexes his fingers, a shaky smile breaking across his features as his thumb unconsciously continues its previous ministrations.

His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest as he slowly, little-by-little, brings her hand up, his warm breath tickling her knuckles. Her breath catches in her throat, embarrassingly so, as he plants a chaste, fleeting kiss on her heated skin.

They both share a laugh at just how fast he pulls away. “Sorry,” he apologizes, sheepishly scratching the back of his head with the hand not interlocked with hers. “That was… That was bad.”

“Yeah—” Her quiet laugh is forced, strained in an effort to seem natural. “Did you even try? No one would buy that,” she quips, the shakiness in her tone just the tiniest bit humiliating. A stupid, not welcome at all giggle bubbles up out of her throat.

Warmth blooms in his chest at the sound, and he shakes his head, a futile effort to rid himself of the giddiness threatening to take over. He takes a quick, determined breath, bringing her hand up once more. 

He takes his time, the world around them coming to a standstill, and she feels as if she might pass out at the faint brush of his lips on her skin again. 

The kiss lingers for a moment or two, the touch practically scorching. Peter feels as if he might actually faint when he looks up at her before pulling away, her lips parted ever-so-slightly, eyes clouded with something he’s never quite seen before.

He pulls back, a nervous, breathy chuckle escaping him as he glances away. “Better?”

MJ, yanking herself out of her daze when she realizes that she might actually need to answer him, nods a little too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Better.”

It’s in that moment, when they’re both trying to catch their breath over something so small as holding hands, gazes burning into one another, that they both realize the exact same thing:

They’re both completely and utterly screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! <3
> 
> Find me on tumblr @spiderman-homecomeme and on twitter @smhomecomeme


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